


Something True

by Arbryna



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: F/F, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 22:39:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arbryna/pseuds/Arbryna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it's all over, Tamsin walks Bo home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something True

When it's all over, Tamsin walks Bo home.

She doesn't know why, or at least she pretends she doesn't. She lies to herself, stores up excuses on the tip of her tongue, ready to be released at the first hint of a question. The lies are bitter, though; they burn at the roof of her mouth, sting at the back of her throat like the harshest liquor she's ever tasted. 

The truth pricks at her chest, whispers inside her ears: despite all of her efforts to resist, all of the drinking and procrastination and wallowing, she ended up delivering Bo to her father just as instructed—even if she hadn't intended to. Bo was nearly lost, the world nearly deprived of a singularly unique presence, and that idea strikes fear deeper in Tamsin than _he_ could ever reach. 

She walks Bo home because she has nowhere else to go, because being around Bo is never boring, because she can't quite bear the thought of letting the succubus out of her sight until it's clear that she's safe. 

It's the least she can do. 

Bo turns her key in the lock as though it weighs a hundred pounds, opens the door by practically falling against it. When the familiar chaos of her living room comes into view, Bo breathes an audible sigh of relief. "I don't think I've ever been so happy to see this place."

Tamsin hangs back, curling her hand around the bare wooden framework just inside the door. "After that shitstorm, anything would look good." She watches Bo drop down onto the couch, sinking into the cushions like she's becoming part of it, like she belongs—like she's home. It's stupid—of course Bo looks like she's at home, this _is_ her home—but it also reminds Tamsin that she doesn't have one of her own; the only home she's known for the past few decades is lying in a heap at the bottom of that cliff. Even then, it was only ever a place to sleep, a mode of transportation; she hasn't belonged anywhere for centuries, if she ever really did. She certainly doesn't belong here. "Anyway, I should get going."

Rolling her head to the side, Bo eyes Tamsin, her brows knitted in confusion. "I thought you wrecked your truck."

With a shrug, Tamsin shoves her hands into the pockets of her now dirty and battered jacket. "I'll figure something out."

"You know," Bo says, adjusting herself to sit up straighter and tucking her legs underneath her, "our couch isn't the most comfortable in the world, but it's all yours, if you want it."

It's such a casual offer, made without a moment's hesitation—genuine, just like Bo always is. Tamsin shifts her weight from one foot to another, trying to convince herself that she doesn't want to accept. "Thanks, but…pretty sure I've already overstayed my welcome." She smirks a little, trying to take the edge off the words, to distance herself from the emotion behind them. It doesn't work—at least not on Bo.

"Tamsin," Bo chides, unfolding her legs and pushing herself off of the couch. She's obviously exhausted, and still covered in dirt and blood from the nightmare they just lived through, but she doesn't seem to care. She stops in front of Tamsin, reaching out to rest a hand on one of Tamsin's shoulders. "I couldn't have gotten through any of that without you. The least I can do is make sure you have a roof over your head."

Tamsin scoffs, shrugging Bo's hand off of her as she takes a step back. "You wouldn't have _had_ to go through any of that shit if it weren't for me."

Bo chuckles, softly shakes her head. "You think he wouldn't have sent someone else?" She erases the distance Tamsin tried to put between them, curling her hand around Tamsin's bicep. Her grip isn't tight, but it anchors Tamsin in place as surely as shackles and chains would. When she speaks again, it's slow and deliberate, her voice trembling with sincerity. "I am glad he chose you. It's probably the only reason I'm standing here right now."

"Please." Tamsin looks down, escaping Bo's gaze even if she can't escape her hold. "You could have handled anything he threw at you."

"You've got more confidence in me than I do." Bo's voice is soft, and Tamsin can't resist the urge to look up at her again. Warm brown eyes are locked on Tamsin, peering at her like they're looking into her innermost thoughts. There's a moment of flickering doubt in those eyes, but it quickly fades into something else, something more terrifying. Bo's gaze darts down to Tamsin's lips, then back up, and even if there's no hint of electric blue in those eyes, Tamsin knows with grave certainty what will come next. 

Tamsin clears her throat, shattering the tension of the moment. "Yeah, well," she says awkwardly, reaching up to tug Bo's hand away from her arm. "That's your problem. Sweet dreams, succubus."

"Wait." Bo catches Tamsin's fingers before they can slip away from her hand, interrupting her attempt at retreat. Her eyes narrow, and frustration grows in her voice with every word. "I don't get you, Tamsin. You say you hate me, but everything you do tells me otherwise. You helped me find Kenzi when no one else believed me. You _kissed_ me, you got into my bathtub with me and told me how perfect you think I am. You stuck by my side all through that ordeal with my father, even though you knew he'd kill you if he got the chance." She sighs, holding tight to Tamsin's hand. "You do all these things, but then you act like nothing ever happened. Every time I think I'm getting somewhere with you, you back off. Why can't you just tell me the truth?" 

"You want the truth?" Tamsin snaps. She shouldn't do this—she's told herself time and again all the reasons it's a _very bad idea_ —but it's late, and she's exhausted, and she's not in any way prepared for Bo's special brand of persistence. She tries to look on the bright side—if she can't push Bo away with lies, maybe the truth will do it. "The truth is, I don't deserve you," she says, her voice shaking. She curls her fingers around Bo's, squeezing hard enough to hurt. "The truth is, you could do a hell of a lot better than a dying valkyrie who can't even use her damn powers without passing out." Using all of her strength, she pushes Bo away from her, yanking her hand from Bo's grasp. "The truth is, the last thing I ever wanted to do was fall for you. You scare the shit out of me, Bo. Is that enough truth for you?" 

The words hang in the air between them, and Bo looks almost as shocked as Tamsin feels. Her goddamn heart is lying on the floor at Bo's feet, and Tamsin isn't sure if she's waiting for Bo to pick it up or crush it under her heel. It's hard to say which possibility scares her more. When Bo doesn't offer a response right away, Tamsin figures it doesn't matter. Her heart has been nothing more than a liability, anyway; she'll leave it behind, and be better off for it. She turns to leave, reminding herself of all the reasons being with Bo could never work.

"No." Bo's voice is quiet, but firm. Tamsin freezes in her tracks. A warm hand presses around her shoulder, turning her back around. "I still have one question." 

Of course she does. Bo can never leave well enough alone. Tamsin clenches her jaw, her eyes searching for anything to focus on that's not Bo's face.

Bo's other hand comes up to cup Tamsin's cheek, guiding their eyes together. "I can't make any promises," Bo says softly, "and there are a lot of things we still need to deal with, but there is something between us. You are not the only one who feels it." Bo pauses. Tamsin swallows roughly, hearing her pulse pound in her ears. When Bo speaks again, her voice is heavy with conviction. "I need to know that you're willing to stick around so we can figure it out. I don't want to hear any of this shit about what you deserve, or how much better you _think_ I could do. I just want you to be honest. Do you want to be with me? Do you even want to try?" 

Tamsin closes her eyes, tries to remember how to breathe. Her hands shake, clenched into fists at her sides. She knows what she should say, but the lie can't quite seem to form on her lips. When her eyes slide open again, they drift from the glimmering warmth of Bo's gaze, over the impassioned flush of pale cheeks, the soft parted lips that tremble with each shallow breath. There is no clever retort here, no witty deflection that will keep both of them safe. This is, fittingly enough, the moment of truth.

"More than anything." The words tumble off of Tamsin's tongue, spilling out of her in one breathless sigh and leaving her painfully exposed. 

Bo sucks in a sharp breath, closes her eyes as she releases it. "Good," she says. The corners of her mouth turn up ever so slightly as she opens her eyes again. "Because I wasn't really planning on taking 'no' for an answer." 

Before Tamsin can fully process the enormity of what she's just gotten herself into, the hand on her cheek slides back, Bo's fingers slipping into her hair. Then Bo is pulling her close, tugging her head down to claim her lips. 

It starts off hesitant, gentle exploration, but Tamsin doesn't do gentle. Sure, she can admit to herself that Bo will probably end up teaching her—but for now, Bo doesn't complain when Tamsin's hands snake around her waist, when Tamsin's tongue traces the seam of her lips. The kiss is a battle and a surrender, a white flag waving with every swipe of tongue and tug of teeth. 

When they part, gasping against each others' lips, Bo smiles and gives Tamsin's shoulder a gentle shove. "Was that so hard?"

Tamsin shakes her head, her fingers digging into Bo's hips. "You have no idea." 

This whole thing still scares the shit out of her. She's never done this before—the relationship thing, the "stick around longer than it takes to get off" thing. She's not sure she knows how, or that she won't fuck it up somehow. Still, there's a strange feeling in her bones, a sense of _rightness_ that she can scarcely identify. This may be the stupidest thing she's ever done, in any of her many lifetimes, but it also feels like the truest.


End file.
